Chapter Three: Future Shock
Disclaimer: all characters are property of their respective owners.
Spoilers: big spoilers for X-Men: Evolution season 1 episode "Rogue Recruit". Big spoilers for CW's The Flash season 1.
Author Note: this version of Rogue and other X-Men related characters are from the X-Men Evolution cartoon, although with elements taken from the comics. Flash-related characters comes from CW's The Flash. Other Marvel, DC and Wildstorm character that may appear are drawn from several sources.
A/N 2: I would appreciate feedback on the story, on how could be improved, or things that I have gotten wrong.
The parking lot of a road-side inn somewhere in Mississippi
Steven Lang looked at Alex Trent, who was screaming to his ex-wife on his cellphone, with distaste. Lang was a scientist who had worked closely with Trask, and Trask's mysterious benefactor, in developing countermeasures to the mutant problem. He respected Graydon Creed's zeal, even if he thought that Creed was a bit too blinded by his own rage at times. But Alex Trent? No, if it was on him, Trent would disappear, being exactly the kind of bigot the Friends of Humanity would be thought to be.
Trent suddenly stopped mid-tirade, and looked at the phone with a slightly stunned look.
"The bitch hung on me." He said, as he put the phone back in his pocket.
"What did you expect? You have been screaming at her for five minutes straight." Lang said, with a sarcastic tone, "Maybe if you weren't that big of an asshole, the court wouldn't have retired your visiting rights."
"Fuck you." Trent answered,
Lang didn't dignify that remark with an answer, turning away from the person he had been saddled with to go back inside to pay their bill when his own cellphone rang. He looked at the screen and saw that it was a hidden number. Nobody, other than the higher echelons of the FoH had this number, so who the hell could be calling him? He turned around again, going back to the parking lot to answer the phone, while signaling Trent to stay there.
"Who is this and how did you get this number?" he asked without preamble.
"That is not important, Mister Lang." Somebody, speaking with an electronically distorted voice, answered,
"What is important is that I know of the location of one of the mutants that managed to flee Mister Trent's ambush yesterday night."
"Even if I knew what you are talking about..." he started to say.
"Oh, please. Don't try to dissemble; I know a lot of things about you." The voice said,
"You came to SHIELD full of ideals to protect humanity, only to find that, as always, politics reigned supreme and a good man you idolized was being thrown to the wolves. So, when he left you left with him, and now you and he are full of plans for a final solution to the mutant problem."
"Listen a moment, you... you..." he started to say, hotly, having caught what the other man was implying immediately.
"Ah, did I touch a nerve?" the voice said with a chuckle.
"What do you fucking want, Mister Know-it-all?" he said, clenching his teeth.
"As I said, I know of the location of one of the mutants, the teenage power drainer." The voice said, unperturbed.
"And you are telling us this out of the goodness of your heart." Lang said, in a skeptical tone.
"Hardly. I have my own motives." The voice said, and then he said an address
"It's in Central City." And he hung up.
Lang swore for a few minutes, to the amused look of Trent. He glared at him, and went back inside to pay, before coming back out and calling headquarters.
Central City. Ma Hunkel's Inn. That night
It was a bit late that night. By accident or design, Rogue had been the only guest to remain at the inn that night, so she and Ma were alone in the building when the young mutant went down the stairs to the living room were Ma Hunkel was knitting, sitting in a rocking chair.
"Mrs. Hunkel, I'm here." Rogue said.
"Call me Ma, honey." She said without lifting her eyes from the knitting needles. "Everybody calls me that, anyway."
"It's about what we talked earlier. About people with..."
"Powers? Special abilities?" she said "Yes, I remember. 'Mystery men', was how they were called back then. The term 'superhero' hadn't been coined yet, you see."
"And when was then?" Rogue said, curious.
"Another age, some people called it a Golden Age." Ma said, "I always thought of that name as nostalgic hogwash, though."
"How so?"
"It was simply a time like any other, with bad and good things. You see..." she started to say when the telephone rang. "One moment."
"Ma Hunkel's Bed and Breakfast Inn, what can I do for you?" She said, "Hello, Fritz, so how things are going on Keystone?... Really?... Yes, that's worrying... No, I don't have any guest that looks like that." This final sentence was said looking at Rogue, who noticed the gesture. "I'll keep that in mind... Bye."
"What was that?" Rogue asked, after Ma had hung up.
"One moment, I have to make a call." Ma said.
She keyed a number from memory and waited for the answer.
"Fred, it's Abby Hunkel... Yes, Ma Hunkel. Listen, I received a call from Fritz, in the Keystone office, about a fugitive that may be lodging here... No, she is not here, but that's the kind of thing that you usually manage, not Fritz... Really? That's odd. Fritz seemed convinced that it was real... See you."
"What was that?" Rogue repeated.
"Things are not safe for you here anymore, honey." Ma said, as she was writing in a notepad, "Collect your things, and go to this address." She ripped a leaf from the notepad and gave it to her, "It's the house of a friend that it's out of town right now."
Ma accompanied her to her room, to help her packing, as well as giving her a bit of an explanation.
"Fritz and Fred are the head of the FBI offices in Keystone City and Central City, respectively. Given that the cities are just across the river from each other, the usual procedure is for notices to one office to go also to the other."
"But from what I heard, that hasn't been the case."
"Yes, and Irene warned me that the people after you may have contacts in Law Enforcement." Ma said, "Now call a taxi, and get to that address. Do you have some way to get in contact with Irene?"
"Not quickly." She shook her head, "She left a Post Office Box address and that is."
"Goddammit." Ma said. "Look, down the street there is a phone box. Call a taxi from there. I'll keep the FBI people busy."
"But you just have basically told the FBI guy that I'm not here." Rogue asked.
"Yeah, but Fritz is pretty by-the-book. He'll ask Fred for help and they'll send a few agents to look around and make a general nuisance of themselves in this neighborhood." Ma Hunkel said, "With luck, nobody will think to check there. Tomorrow, I'll go there to help you, but don't forget to check that P.O. Box."
They got out through the back door, and Rogue walked down the street toward the pay phone. Ma Hunkel went back to the kitchen to prepare a tea for herself. Just as she was doing that, she looked and saw a black car stopping before the inn, and two men in dark suits with sunglasses stepped out. Ma frowned; there hadn't been time for them to come here from the FBI office. They could have been doing anything closer to here, but the timing was very, very suspect.
The FBI agents were two young men, a crew-cut blond with a bodybuilder physique, while the other was a red-haired man with a swimmer physique and longer hair than his partner...
Something was bothering her about those two. She had talked with a lot of G-men over the years, and these two... something about them was off, and it gave her a bad feeling. Well, thanks to Rex she had something better than long johns and a pot, if things went south. And fortunately the only guest tonight had been Rogue, so she shouldn't worry too much about people getting in the crossfire.
~~~~~~~
"What do we know about this woman?" Trent asked, adjusting the necktie of his suit. Looking the part of a Fed irked him, given their part on the death of his father.
"Not much, she is a widow from New York, and she moved to Central City with her family 'round twenty-five years ago." Lang answered, checking his Smartphone for the data that have been sent from Central. "Hmmm... strange, it is almost as if she had suddenly appeared thirty years ago in NYC with her kids."
"Witness protection?" Trent asked.
"Maybe." Lang said, as they reached the porch of the inn.
After they rang, they could hear a muffled 'coming' from the back, and a couple minutes later, a sixty-something woman, dressed in a maroon robe over bright-yellow pajamas opened the door.
"Ma Hunkel Bed and Breakfast place. What can I do for you?" she said with a friendly smile.
"Abigail Matilda Hunkel?." Trent said, trying his best to sound official.
"That's me." She said, with a confused expression.
"I'm Agent Alexander, and this is Agent Stephens." Trent said, using the names in their fake FBI IDs. "We have received an anonymous tip that a fugitive could be lodging in your establishment."
"Yes, Fritz, from the FBI office in Keystone called me earlier." The woman said, "I didn't recognize the description he gave me, but if you have a picture..."
Trent and Lang looked to each other, clearly thinking the same thing. 'What the fucking hell?.' The real FBI wasn't supposed to know about this.
"Yes, yes. One moment." Trent said, getting his hand into his jacket, but no picture was produced. Instead, Ma Hunkel found herself looking at an 9 mm automatic pistol. "The girl, where is she?"
Ma Hunkel didn't panic when the crew-cut blonde aimed at her with a pistol. It wasn't the first time that she had been threatened by a gunman, and frankly, these two weren't all that scary compared to some of the people who had been after her in the past.
She then noticed that the other man had pursed his lips when his partner had aimed the weapon at her. 'Interesting.' She thought. It seemed that these two weren't exactly in the same page.
But it would be better to play along for now, maybe they would let slip something, so she opened her eyes wide and managed to say, faking a convincing frightened tone:
"But... but... I have told you the truth. No Goth teenager had been lodged here in the last days." she said, adding a shiver for effect, "A girl came this morning, but she didn't look like at all like that. And I didn't let her lodge here without a valid ID."
They seemed to have swallowed it, as the blond muscle lowered the gun, before the other talked again.
"How did she look?" he asked.
"Green eyes, bottle blonde, wearing a gray turtleneck, jeans and boots." Ma said, lying through her teeth, "Ah, and she was carrying a backpack."
"Something else?" the redhead asked.
"No... Wait, she mumbled something about meeting somebody mid way or in Midway when she was leaving." Ma said.
"Midway Island? In the Pacific?" Blondie said
"No, probably Midway City, in Michigan." the redhead said. "Anything else, Mrs. Hunkel?."
"Nothing that I can recall." She said, and then added when the blonde raised his weapon again, "Really, I'm telling you the truth!."
"I believe you." Blondie said with an ugly smile, before shooting her twice in the chest. She fell on the floor, just before her seat.
"Godammit, Trent." Lang said. "Was that necessary?"
"Yeah, you heard her; she had friends in the local FBI office." Trent answered, with a shrug, "Better this that having the Feds after us."
"You deal with Trask after this. I guess he isn't going to be very happy with you." Lang said, rolling his eyes as he followed his partner toward the exit door.
They left Ma Hunkel lying on the floor, and it was not long before the car left the street. Ma took a deep breath when she heard them leaving and sat on the floor, examining the marks that the bullets had left on the bulletproof fabric of the bodysuit she was wearing under the pajamas. It hadn't penetrated it, but given the pain she was feeling, it was going to leave a couple of bruises.
But at least she already had a name, Trask. She had to call Rex and Carter about this, before she went to join Rogue on Jay's safe house.
Keystone City.
The taxi arrived to the address that Ma had given her, a small apartment building just outside a zone of the city that seemed to be completely surrounded by thick concrete walls. She shrugged and went to the second floor.
The apartment was well kept, although the furniture looked to be a bit old, as was the TV in the living room. One of the rooms seemed to be a complete chemical lab, weirdly enough, and the books seemed to be all science related, except for a single and a dog-eared old-looking copy of a book called "Behind the Mask", by a guy called John Law.
She lied down on the bed, thinking about what she had to do tomorrow. The idea of going to Topeka didn't appeal to her, but frankly, with the FBI going after her, she didn't have many options, other than trust what Irene had ready for her. Maybe tomorrow Irene would have sent something. She closed her eyes. It had been a long day, and sleep soon claimed her...
She stood inside a cathedral-like building made of crystal. A young black haired man with the bluest eyes she had ever seen, dressed in a flannel shirt, a burgundy leather jacket, and jeans was talking to her, but she couldn't hear the words, because of the intense cold she was feeling. The man bopped his forehead, and removed his jacket, putting it over her shoulders. When he did that, she felt... safe, and looked back at him with a smile in her lips...
He was gone, as it was the crystalline building, and the jacket. But she was not feeling the cold anymore. She was in a fighting stance against a dark haired woman, who smirked and attacked her faster than she believed possible. She could barely block her and the hit hurt a lot. She braced herself for the next hit...
The girl was nowhere to be seen now; instead she was in a dark corridor, stepping back from some kind of purple... slimy... thing, with glowing red eyes that extended a dripping hand to her. Suddenly the hand was on her shoulder and she screamed...
...Just to awake in the bed with Ma Hunkel trying to wake her.
"Sorry, a nightmare." Rogue said, and by the light that filtered through the window it was already early in the morning. "What time is it?"
"7:30, and I called one of my sons to take care of the inn this morning." Ma said.
"Did the FBI agents arrive?" Rogue asked, as they walked to the small kitchen.
"Twice. The first time they were fakes, probably the same people that are after you and Irene." Ma said, serving herself a cup of tea, "The second time, I repeated what I told the fake agents and informed them that somebody that identified themselves as FBI agents had come to visit here. As they were leaving, Fred called and told me that it had been some hacker sending a fake warning, as the central office has no record of sending it."
"And do you believe it?"
"Well, the fakes seemed to be surprised that I had received a call from the local FBI office." Ma said, "And you?"
"Fine, actually. What's the history of the walled area, though? There is nothing inside." Rogue said, curious.
"It happened a decade ago. A couple blocks of the city simply disappeared overnight." Ma said, "Nobody knows what happened there. After months of investigation some Federal agency dictated that it would be better to simply wall the zone off, citing some bullshit story about radiation."
"You don't believe the story about radiation." Rogue said.
"Before the Feds cordoned the area Ted, a friend who is also an astrophysicist told me that the radiation levels were completely normal." Ma said, "But the Feds are still keeping watch over it, for no reason that I can discern."
"And that's all? Nobody is doing anything?" Rogue said, "How many people were lost?"
"Too many. All my family was spared, thanks God, but I lost a couple of good friends, Jay and his wife Joan."
"But..." she started to say, but whatever she was going to say was lost, when the doorbell interrupted them.
They looked at each other, wondering who it could be. Ma went to look through the peephole to see who it was.
"Mercury Messages?" she said, with a confused expression. She left the chain on and opened the door.
"Abigail Hunkel?" said the message boy.
"Yes? Who it is?"
"I have a package for you, from a... Sherrell Moriarty?" the messenger said.
She opened the door, took the package, and signed on the order. After he went his way, Ma closed the door and brought the package to the kitchen table.
"Who is Sherrell Mo...?" Rogue said, trailing off when she noticed the name combination; "It's from Irene, isn't it? She loves her Sherlock Holmes references."
"Yeah, and besides, that was the name she was using when I met her." Ma said as she opened the package.
Inside there was another note, a bus ticket and a cellphone. Rogue took the note before Ma could do anything about it, and started to read it silently.
Dear Marie, the Walled Area in Keystone City is something that nobody can resolve in the present. But, don't worry, the person who will undo what happened will appear soon, like a bolt from the blue.
The bus ticket is for the last bus out of Central City today, take it. And the cellphone has in the memory a few numbers of people who can help you, if you are in trouble in Kansas.
Another thing, this is the last time you will hear of me for a long while, other than the letter that I'll send you to Topeka just before I leave. There is a person I must talk with, about something that I have seen in the future, and try to talk him out of something he is planning to do.
Love, Irene
"Spooky, isn't it." Ma said after Rogue finished reading the note.
"How do you know what Irene wrote there?" Rogue asked
"I don't know, but it's not the first time she does the note thing, sending one what you were thinking about in that moment" Ma said, "So what does she says?"
"In short, that the walled area is not my concern and that she may be out of contact for a while." Rogue said, "So, what we do now?"
"I'm going to buy a set of less distinctive clothes for you. Those people may still be watching the stations."
"...Fine." Rogue said, sitting in an armchair. Meanwhile, Ma Hunkel said goodbye as she got out the door.
She took her a notebook, remembering Irene's caution about the visions and started to list all what she remembered about last night dreams. While she was doing this, she started to sketch in the margins, some of the things she remembered. Progressively, the sketches became bigger and bigger, until she found herself with a full page picture of the boy that had given her a jacket in that icy place.
When she had finished, she looked at the picture with amazement, and a bit amount of fear. She had never been able to draw beyond stick figures, but Cody had won several contests with his skills. And it wasn't only his skills. She looked at the writing, that started recognizable as her own, but over what she had written it wavered between Irene's clear and precise handwriting, Cody's sloppy, though readable, one, and her own tighter, rounder letters.
It had been completely unconscious on her part, as if pieces of Cody and Irene lingered somewhere in her. If this happened every time... she shuddered, the thought of losing herself to the fragments of different people she absorbed terrified her, and the only thing that prevented her from bolting out was Irene reassurance that everything would work out at the end.
TO BE CONTINUED....